


Back to You

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fitz POV, Fitz is done with the bullcrap, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Humor, Hunter is an idiot, Jemma POV, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sexual Content, Singing Telegrams, Skye and Trip and Mack play matchmaker, Skye pov, Unresolved Emotional Tension, in which Fitz questions why he is friends with anyone, or it hasn't happened yet, singing kissograms, the humor is probably borderline crack, there is no Hydra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fitz loses a bet with Mack, it ends up leading him back to the one person he thought he'd never see again. AU, set during a season 1 timeframe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secretkp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretkp/gifts).



> Written for the Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine exchange on Tumblr, as a gift for secretkp (andhedidntinviteme). The prompt was "do you want to get out of here?"
> 
> So! Here it is. Once again, the prompt got away from me, I took it a bit too far, and I ended up with this beast. Happy Valentine's Day! I hope everyone enjoys it. As always, I love and appreciate all comments and suggestions from you, dear readers.
> 
> In this universe, Skye, Jemma, and Trip work for S.H.I.E.L.D. while Fitz and Mack work for Stark Industries. Hunter does whatever pays him a living wage. Coulson doesn't have a team. Hydra doesn't exist either, or it just hasn't happened yet.

If you asked Leo Fitz what he thought of his life, he would say that he was pleased, happy even. He had a well-paying job doing work that he loved, friends that he could trust and count on, and a wonderful mother who doted on him as much as she could, given that she lived in Glasgow and he was in New York City. He was lucky enough to be able to afford a modest apartment in a decent section of Manhattan, even if he had to share it with a roommate.

Said roommate was a definite plus too--Mack, a friend of his from work. They got on well, even though the only thing they really had in common was a love for engineering and trying to outdo each other’s scores in video games.

Also, Fitz was perpetually single. He didn’t count that as a negative, though. His job kept him plenty busy, and the time he spent at the bar after work and on weekends with his friends was more than enough socializing for him. Besides, he’d yet to meet a woman who could hold his interest for long enough, or who could keep up with his rapid-fire thought process.

No, he was just fine with being single. So why-- _why_ \--were his friends and his roommate, who he trusted and counted on so much, so fixated on trying to set him up?

-:-

“For the last time, Mack, _no_. I will not go out with Skye’s roommate.” Fitz set his pint down on the bar with a decisive _thud_ , only just managing not to slosh his beer over the rim of the glass.

Next to him, Mack shook his head. “I’m not giving up on this, Turbo. If Trip says she’s perfect for you, I believe it. Trip’s never wrong.”

Fitz sighed. On the other side of Mack, Trip leaned forward so he could look down the bar at him. “I keep telling you, man. _Perfect_. She’s a science genius. _You’d_ have to try and keep up with _her_.”

“I highly doubt that,” Fitz said. He’d only met one woman in his entire life who could keep up with him, much less surpass him, but he hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years. Even if he did want to talk to her--and he wouldn’t lie to himself, sometimes he did--he had no way of contacting her. Therefore, it was pointless to think about.

“No, really,” Trip insisted. “ _And_ , she’s beautiful. Long brown hair, brown eyes--”

“Hey! You’d better be talking about me, mister.” That was Skye. She’d been dating Trip for nearly a year, and Fitz knew they were serious. She had been a welcome addition to their weekend get-togethers, easily fitting into the dynamic that Fitz, Mack, and Trip had already established.

Trip held up a hand. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being appreciative. I’m just calling it like I see it.” But he still wrapped an arm around Skye’s shoulders and pulled her close to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Fitz turned back to his pint, slowly rotating it with his fingertips. “I still don’t understand why you’re all so obsessed with my love life,” he grumbled. “I’m perfectly fine being single, and I don’t--I’m not a one-night-stand kind of guy.”

“We just worry about you, that’s all,” Mack said amiably, taking a sip of his own beer. “All you ever do is work. We just want you to be happy, have some fun.”

“I _am_ happy,” Fitz replied. “I’ve got you guys. I have plenty of fun with you here, or, or playing video games back at the apartment, or whatever. I don’t need to be set up with Skye’s roommate, whoever she is, you won’t even tell me her name--”

“Because that defeats the purpose of a blind date, you egg,” Skye said.

“Fine.” He threw his hands up. “Anyway, I don’t need to be set up on a blind date to be happy. Besides, she won’t even come here with you, Skye.”

“She’s a bit focused on her work.” Skye took a sip of her own drink before looking at him pointedly. “Sort of like you.”

Fitz sighed again and rolled his eyes, reaching for his pint. He’d heard this reasoning before.

Mack frowned thoughtfully. “Okay, Turbo. You win. But I’m challenging you to a bet first.”

Fitz side-eyed him, even as both Trip and Skye leaned forward in interest. “What sort of bet?” he asked warily.

“Hear me out,” Mack said. “I challenge you to get a girl’s phone number. Any girl in this bar, in the next hour. No, two hours. Do that and I’ll stop bugging you about Skye’s roommate.”

“And if I don’t?” Fitz knew he wasn’t exactly Mr. Smooth, but having two hours just to get one phone number didn’t sound that bad. Besides, Mack hadn’t said he actually had to _do_ anything with that phone number, and he wasn’t about to remind him.

“If you don’t…” Mack grinned. “You’ve got to ask out Skye’s roommate. _And_ you have to do it in a manner of my choosing.”

Trip and Skye both laughed in delight, but Fitz was feeling optimistic. Maybe it was just the beer talking, but he thought he stood a chance. “Alright,” he said slowly, “You’re on.”

Mack’s grin widened. “Shake on it?” When Fitz did, he clapped him on the back and gestured for him to stand, making a show of looking at the clock on the wall behind the bar. “Two hours, Turbo. Clock’s ticking.”

Fitz straightened his shoulders and started scanning the room. _Right_. He could do it, no problem. One measly phone number, with no obligation to follow up. Easy.

Two hours later, he was back on his stool with his head down on the bar, hiding his burning cheeks from Trip and Skye’s whoops and yells.

“Why,” he groaned, butting his head against the bartop. “Why am I friends with you?”

“Because you love us,” Skye crooned, coming up behind him to ruffle his hair. He batted her hands away without lifting his head.

“I don’t,” Fitz said with feeling. “I really don’t.”

“Come on, man,” Mack laughed, squeezing his shoulder. “Sit up and we’ll talk about how you get to ask out the future Mrs. Fitz.”

Fitz sighed before sitting back up, and put on his most miserable scowl. “Fine. What new sort of fresh hell have you come up with?”

Unfortunately, that only made Skye laugh harder. “Oh, we had a few ideas that we tossed around while you were out on the prowl,” she said, smiling brightly. “There were some good ones.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Fitz deadpanned.

Trip held up his hands. “Hey man, don’t look at me. I actually thought you could pull it off. You can really be a charmer when you want to be, you know?”

“Apparently not enough of one,” Skye muttered, still laughing, and Trip elbowed her in the side.

“Okay, okay,” Mack said, stopping Fitz’s descent into an even deeper scowl. “Here’s what you have to do. But we’re gonna have to get Hunter involved…”

-:-

When Skye got back to her apartment later that night, her roommate was still up, sitting at the kitchen table in her pajamas with her laptop and a mug of tea. “So, you missed an interesting night at the bar,” she said, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it up on the hook by the door.

Her roommate looked up, her face only a little exasperated. “I’m sure.”

“No, Jemma, really!” Skye bounced over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “Mr. Perfect was there, as usual--”

Jemma sighed. “Skye, please, not this again--”

“And Mack bet him he couldn’t get a girl’s phone number,” she said, as if her roommate hadn’t spoken. “It was hilarious. He couldn’t do it. Felt a bit bad for him, actually.” She paused, screwing the lid back on her water bottle. “But only a little bit.”

“That sounds rather harsh,” Jemma said, frowning.

“Well, see, here’s the thing.” Skye hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter. “Mack said if he could do it, we’d stop trying to set you guys up.”

Jemma gave her a pointed look. “That would be reassuring, except you said he failed the bet. So...what, you’re not going to stop?”

Skye grinned. “That is exactly it,” she said smugly, electing not to tell her the other details of the bet. After all, that would spoil the surprise.

“Ugh.” Jemma rubbed her forehead. “Skye, while I appreciate that you’re just trying to help, I really don’t see the point in you continuing this. I’m not going to let you set me up on a blind date. I don’t even _like_ blind dates--don’t you remember the last man you set me up with? It was a disaster, he didn’t even--”

“But this won’t be!” she said earnestly. “I promise. He really is perfect for you, really. He’s a super huge nerd just like you are, Mack says he does amazing stuff with engineering--”

Jemma scoffed. “Well, if he’s anything like my friend from the Academy--”

“He can’t be like your friend from the Academy, because the sun doesn’t shine out of his ass.” At Jemma’s affronted look, Skye shrugged expressively. “Jemma, seriously, that friend of yours has achieved, like, mythical status in this apartment. The way you talk about him, I’d swear you were in love, but you’ve said you haven’t even seen the guy in years.”

Jemma looked away then, and for a moment Skye worried that she’d pushed her friend too far. She was just about to apologize when Jemma looked back up and gave her a bracing smile. “What I meant to say was,” she said, “was that if this mystery engineer of yours is anything like my friend from the Academy, or any of the other engineers I knew there, then he might be a little difficult to get along with.”

“Hmm.” That actually did sound a bit like Fitz, but she couldn’t say that out loud. She was still convinced their shared passion for science would override any of Fitz’s more grouchy traits. “Well,” she pointed out, “you got along with your friend okay.”

Jemma’s smile was more soft and genuine then. “He was...different.”

Skye clucked and slid off the kitchen counter. “That’s so cute,” she said, and went to give Jemma a hug around the shoulders. “I’m going to go get ready for bed now, so you can, you know, stop waiting up on me.”

Jemma grinned and reached up to squeeze Skye’s arm in return. “I wasn’t waiting up on you,” she said. “I was reading these new research reports that came out today and I just lost track of time.”

“Sure.” Skye patted the top of Jemma’s head before heading for the hallway. “See you in the morning!”

“Good night, Skye,” Jemma called after her. The second Skye was around the corner and out of sight, she grinned and did a little dance down the hall, all the way to her bedroom. The next weekend was going to be _awesome_.

-:-

Six days later, Fitz was standing in Lance Hunter’s apartment and rueing the day he ever met Alphonso Mackenzie.

“How do you even _become_ a singing telegram person?” he asked, shaking his head. “How? Is there some sort of secret work exchange board where you sign up and say ‘Yes, I’d like to humiliate myself in front of complete strangers for money’?”

“Ever heard of Craigslist, mate?” Hunter asked, scrolling through some files on his computer. When Fitz huffed, he looked up at him and grinned. “No, it’s not quite that shady, but that _is_ how I found out about the service. And you know, I haven’t got that bad a singing voice, and ever since my she-devil ex-wife left, I’ve got to make ends meet, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know.” They _all_ knew about Hunter’s ex-wife. Mack was the only one of them who had actually met her, as she had divorced Hunter before they met Fitz. From the way Hunter told it--and he liked to tell it, a lot--she had been a nightmare. Mack swore she wasn’t nearly that bad. “I just...singing telegrams though, really?”

Hunter shrugged. “It’s a little money extra on the side. Anyway, _you_ , my poor unfortunate friend, are not delivering a mere singing _telegram_.”

Fitz’s stomach sank. “Please, Hunter.” He wasn’t above begging, not in this instance. “Don’t make me do it.”

“No, sorry, can’t,” he said, clicking open a file on his computer, then grabbing a pen and paper to start writing things down. “Mack made it very clear. You’ve got to deliver a singing _kissogram_.”

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remind me why I’m friends with you lot again?”

“Because if you didn’t have us, you’d just have your job, and that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?” Hunter finished writing with a flourish and folded the paper up into a square before handing it to him. “I’ll email you the music so you can memorize it for tomorrow. Nervous?”

“That’s a stupid bloody question,” Fitz grumbled. “I think at this point I’d rather saw my own arm off with my Swiss army knife.”

Hunter laughed loudly before standing and walking Fitz to the door. “Don’t worry so much, mate. I’ve actually met this lady a few times. I figure if you can make it through the singing and the kissing, you’ll be set. Once she finds out how massive that brain of yours is, she’ll be tearing your clothes off.”

Fitz made a face. “I’m going to ignore most of what you just said.” He stopped in the hallway just outside Hunter’s door. “But, since you’ve met her...what’s her name? No one will tell me.”

Hunter shook his head. “I have been sworn to secrecy,” he said solemnly. “Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t even _in_ the Scouts.”

“Exactly. Goodbye, mate,” Hunter said, closing the door in his face. “And good luck!”

Fitz rolled his eyes and headed for the elevators. On the way down, he opened up the piece of paper Hunter had given him and skimmed it over. He’d written down the lyrics the song he had to sing, along with the address to Skye’s apartment. And--surprisingly--her roommate’s name. Maybe Hunter wasn’t so bad after all.

Then he actually read the name and for a moment, his heart stopped.

The name--it was so similar to the name of the girl he’d once known, the one who had matched him in intelligence and wits. Too similar for comfort, really, and Fitz found himself panicking slightly as the elevator reached the bottom floor and the doors opened. Out in the lobby, he took a moment to calm down. It was a coincidence, it had to be. It wasn’t even her actual name, just a similar one.

Except Mack had said Skye’s roommate was a scientist. The girl he’d known had been one, too.

He shook his head and folded the paper back up before stuffing it in his pocket. New York City had a population of over eight million people. The chances of someone having a name similar to that of his long-lost friend was actually not all that bad. Still, the reminder had rattled his nerves a bit. He set off quickly back for his own apartment, determined to put her out of his mind and focus instead on not making a total spectacle of himself the next day.

-:-

“You don’t have any plans tomorrow, do you?” Skye asked as she came into the living room, heading for the kitchen.

Jemma paused the documentary she was watching on the television and turned to look at her. “No, why?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied airily, opening the freezer and digging through it. “It’s just...I’ve already made plans with Trip and I’m expecting a package tomorrow afternoon.” She paused in her search and turned to face Jemma, wincing. “It’s one you have to sign for and I really don’t want to miss it.”

Jemma considered it. She hadn’t made any real, concrete plans, but she’d thought about going to the lab to get some work done on one of her long-term experiments, even though it would be a Saturday. “I was thinking about going in to work,” she said, “but it’s nothing important. If you really need me here to sign for your mail, I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Skye asked, eyes hopeful. Jemma nodded, and she pumped a fist. “Great! You’re the best, Jemma. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

She laughed at her enthusiasm. “I really don’t mind, Skye. Honestly, if it means you won’t beg me to come with you and Trip to the bar so you can set me up with your Mr. Perfect, I’m all for it.”

“Oh, trust me, I really do wish you’d come to the bar, but this package is more important.” Skye grinned, perhaps a bit _too_ widely.

Jemma narrowed her eyes. “What exactly did you order?”

Skye turned back to the freezer and pulled out a pack of chicken. “It’s a surprise.”

Oh, dear. Suddenly, Jemma wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She coughed delicately. “Is this something you’ve ordered just for you and Trip, or…?”

“Jemma Simmons! Get your mind out of the gutter! No, it’s nothing like that.” Skye laughed and turned to smile at her again. “It’s way cooler.”

Even though she gave it a solid minute of thought, Jemma couldn’t think of a single thing that Skye could have ordered, given the information she had. “If you say so,” she said warily, and picked up the television remote to unpause her documentary. “At least you’ve given me an out for Mr. Perfect.” She sighed. “Are you ever going to tell me his name?”

“Never. It defeats the purpose of a blind date, silly.” Skye reached up into one of the cabinets next to the stove. “How’s chicken and pasta sound for dinner?”

“Wonderful.”

-:-

Early the next afternoon, Fitz stood on the subway station platform, looking down at the scrap of paper in his hand. He’d already memorized the information on it, but it gave him something to do. It kept him from focusing too much on his impending humiliation. He’d considered not going through with it at all, but Mack had said that Trip’s girlfriend would be able to find out whether or not he had and report back. And, well, he had his pride. So he would summon up what dignity he had left and deliver the stupid kissogram, even if it meant destroying said dignity in the process. After all, he doubted he would ever see this woman--whoever she was--again. No matter how many times Trip and Skye said she was perfect for him, Fitz knew he was socially awkward at the best of times. Him delivering a singing kissogram to a stranger was a recipe for disaster. Hunter was definitely wrong when he’d said he would get the girl.

Glancing back down at the name on the paper, he felt his stomach twist again, the same as it had when he first saw it. Despite himself, he’d found himself lying awake the night before thinking about her, the girl from school. The memories were old and loved, but he’d taken special care in the years since to guard them carefully. If he thought about her too much, the pain of losing her would come back.

He knew that Trip and Skye worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., just like his friend did, just the same as he had done years ago before he’d been forced to leave. The last he knew, she’d been transferred to the station there in New York City. More than once, he’d considered asking Skye to look through the agent database to find her, to see if she was still there, but every time he talked himself out of it. Nearly ten years had passed since he’d last seen her, and that was just too much time. She would have grown up and moved on. Besides, he knew Skye would see straight through him, and he didn’t want to look desperate.

The name was a coincidence; it had to be.

He’d lost that girl long ago, and he was never going to get her back.

-:-

Jemma was reading through some articles on her laptop when there was a knock on the door. Frowning, she looked up. That would be the package Skye had asked her to wait for, probably. She got up from the kitchen table and went to the door to look through the peep hole to check and make sure.

What she saw was a man, head bowed to look at a piece of paper in his hands--definitely _not_ a mail delivery person. Jemma frowned, then stepped back and undid the locks before cautiously opening the door. The man in the hall immediately started talking.

“Ah, yes, I’m here to deliver a-- _oh my god_.”

Her eyes went wide with shock as the man froze and his mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Absolutely, totally, one hundred percent could _not_ believe them. The last person she had ever expected to see again was standing there. It had been years since she’d last seen or spoke to him but those sandy curls and blue eyes, not to mention the Scottish accent, were unmistakable.

It was her friend from the Academy.

Her mouth worked noiselessly for a moment, struggling to form words, before she managed to gasp, “ _Fitz?_ ”

He looked down at the paper in his hand, then back to her, then back and forth a few times, his mouth still hanging open. “This says _Gena_ Simmons,” he finally said, brandishing the paper and sounding betrayed. There was a visible flush crawling up his neck into his face, and Jemma was certain her own face matched.

“But it _is_ you. Right? Leo Fitz?” She felt like she had fallen into some sort of bizarre meet-cute straight from a romantic comedy. How had this happened? Why on Earth was he at her door, now, after all these years?

“Yeah. And you’re--Jemma.” He blew out a breath that sounded more like an incredulous laugh. “Christ, it’s been--”

“--almost ten years,” she said. She wondered if it was only her that felt a jolt at the way she’d just finished his sentence, the way she had when they were teenagers. A full minute passed before she realized that they were both just standing there, staring at each other, before she remembered her manners. “Oh!” she said, standing to the side and pulling the door open wider. “Would you like to come in?”

Fitz blinked and nodded before walking slowly inside, as if in a daze. Jemma shut the door behind him and redid the locks, then turned and watched as he drifted toward the center of the room. A million thoughts and emotions and memories were hitting her all at once, and she couldn’t think straight. For a moment all she could do was drink him in with her eyes, taking in all the things about him that looked the same as she remembered, and all the things that were different. His hair wasn’t quite as long as it had been at seventeen, though there was still enough length for the curls to get unruly if he let them. His face had lost its baby roundness, turning his jawline and cheekbones slightly sharper, more masculine, but his eyes were still the same brilliant blue. His wardrobe had changed too, evidently: gone were the tees and plain button-downs, replaced with a patterned button-down, tie, thin jumper, and well-fitting jeans. He still favored trainers though, if the ones he was wearing were any indication.

Oh, he looked good.

“Can I take your jacket?” she asked, coming up behind him.

Fitz turned to face her. “Oh--yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, shrugging out of it and handing it to her. She was keenly aware of him watching as she went to hang it up on a hook by the door, and supposed he was doing a mental catalogue of his own. Suddenly, she was glad she’d put a little bit of effort into her appearance that morning.

He was still looking at her when she came back to him, and she tried to push down the butterflies that had erupted in her stomach. “I don’t even know where to start,” she confessed, still in shock. How did you start a conversation with someone you hadn’t spoken to in years? “I suppose--well-- _how?_ ”

Luckily, Fitz understood her question. “Um--I’ve got a mate from work, Mack,” he said, putting one hand on his hip as the other reached up to rub at his neck. Jemma recognized it as one of his old nervous tics. “He’s also my roommate. He’s been trying to set me up for ages. I kept telling him no, but...anyway, we’ve got another friend, Trip--”

“Ah, Trip,” Jemma smiled.

“Yeah, they’ve really been on me lately to go out with his girlfriend’s roommate. They said she was--well, a lot like me.” Fitz’s face flushed again. “Looks like you’re the roommate.”

Jemma gave an exaggerated wince and little wave. “Hello!” she sang, hating how awkward she sounded. “But yes--I’m Skye’s roommate. I know Trip well. And--oh, this sounds so silly.” She couldn’t keep a short laugh from escaping. “She’s been trying to set me up for a long time now too, with one of Trip’s friends. She said he was an engineer but wouldn’t tell me his name. If I’d known it was you though, I would have--” She cut herself off, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Fitz’s eyebrows went up. “You would have…?”

She put her hands to her cheeks briefly before sliding them down to rest against her neck--her own nervous tic. “I would have said yes, obviously,” she said earnestly. “It would have been lovely to see you again. We were such good friends, back at the Academy.”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, and she didn’t miss the nostalgic tint his voice had taken, nor the brief flash of regret in his eyes. “We were.”

Anxious as she was to not let things get awkward, she smiled and quickly moved on. “So...is that why you’re here? You finally let them set you up? Because I had _no_ idea this was going to happen--Skye was just very adamant that I stay home today. She said she had a package being delivered that needed to be signed for, but if you know Skye...I’m beginning to think I’ve been had.”

Fitz groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “Ah, no,” he said, voice muffled. “I lost a bet.” It was Jemma’s turn to raise an eyebrow then; when Fitz looked back up his cheeks were still red--he hadn’t really stopped blushing since she’d opened the door--and he smiled tightly, not quite meeting her eyes. “We were at the bar last weekend, and Mack dared me to get a girl’s phone number. _Any_ girl’s phone number. And if I didn’t, I had to come here and deliver a--a singing kissogram.”

Jemma’s eyes went wide again. “A singing kissogram?” she repeated, her voice squeaking. Skye hadn't told her about _that_ part of the bet. Every daydream she’d ever entertained about Fitz kissing her came rushing back, and a guilty part of her wanted nothing more for him to do just that: sing some stupid rhyme and kiss her, and spark...something. Something new. Something she’d lost any chance at years ago. But Fitz was grimacing, so she did her best to push all those fantasies away. There was a reason they had only ever been just that: fantasies.

“You don’t have to do it,” she rushed to assure him. “There’s no need for you to embarrass yourself.”

Fitz shook his head. “Mack said he’d find out if I did it or not.”

Jemma looked at the piece of paper still in his hand. “Are those the words?” she asked. “I could just read them, so if anyone asked, I’d know what they were.”

“No.” Fitz shook his head again. “No, I’ve got to hold up my end of the bet, and--Jemma, don’t look at me like that, I’ve got my pride, you know. I’m just--I’m glad it’s you, because I know you won’t hold this against me. I _hope_ you won’t.” He paused and narrowed his eyes at her. “ _Don’t_ laugh.”

When Jemma bit back a grin and gestured for him to continue, Fitz cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, holding the piece of paper out before him. “Right. So--ahem. _You and me are one of a kind, you and me are a perfect kind. We can't do everything forever, but I wish we could do everything together. You and me can do it, if we put our hearts into it_.”

She couldn’t help herself. By the time Fitz was through, Jemma’s shoulders were shaking with barely-restrained laughter. He wasn’t a natural-born singer but his voice was passable, and the lyrics were so silly and so very much _them_ (at least, the way they used to be) that it was impossible not to laugh. The glare Fitz gave her as he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket was so reminiscent of the Fitz she remembered that she finally broke down in giggles.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Fitz said accusingly, but he was smiling too.

Jemma laughed again. “Oh, Fitz. I’m not laughing at you. I’m just so happy to see you.” Then she thought of how it was supposed to be a kissogram instead of a telegram, and flushed again. “But--you don’t have to kiss me. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Oh.” He sighed with relief. “That’s good. I mean, not that I--”

“It’s fine.” Jemma forced a smile, ignoring the way her stomach twisted at the implication that he didn’t want to kiss her. It was still just a silly fantasy. Instead, she moved past him to sit on the couch, patting the cushion next to her in invitation. “How’ve you been? How’s your mum?”

Fitz came and sat down next to her, looking much more relaxed at the change of subject. “She’s fine, she’s doing much better now, living on her own again. A few months after you and I lost touch I got hired on full-time at Stark Industries…”

As they fell deep into conversation, catching up on all the years they’d been absent from each other’s lives, Jemma let herself reflect on all the memories she had of Fitz, worn and faded but well-loved in the picture book of her mind. The year they’d had together at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy had easily been the happiest of her life. She’d been seventeen and alone in a new country, bright and eager and ready to get started on the next phase of her life and career. But she hadn’t counted on the loneliness. Being so much younger than her fellow cadets definitely had its drawbacks, and trying to fit in amongst them had been a major one.

But then she’d met Fitz. She’d noticed him right from the start at orientation and knew at once that they were alike--he looked just as young as her, and just as out of place, but she could never get him alone long enough to say hello and introduce herself. Fortunately, they’d been paired up in their chemistry lab a few weeks later, and the rest was history.

He’d been the first real friend she’d had in ages, and quickly grew to be her best friend ever, period. She hadn’t had a friend like him ever since. Skye was wonderful, and Jemma was so very thankful for her, but it was like comparing apples and oranges. With Fitz it had been...she still couldn’t quantify it in words, not even ten years later. They’d been so well-matched. Almost like two halves of a whole, really. They’d been able to read each other’s thoughts and moods like an open book, could hold entire conversations with just their eyes instead of words, and worked together so seamlessly in the lab that it was almost like they were one single unit.

Memories of all the little things they’d shared flashed through her mind like bits of a movie. Late nights spent in the lab, or in their rooms studying and planning and brainstorming. Early mornings at the campus cafe, her with a cup of tea and Fitz groggily nursing a coffee. Walking together across campus in the sunshine. The way they didn’t need words to fill up any silences between them, how they were comfortable simply just sharing a space. The way his hands moved as he constructed their newest project. How his hair looked mussed, either from sleep or her hand affectionately ruffling it. The way he could always, without fail, brighten a sour mood of hers just by smiling. And, of course, the questions. Always, the questions. Were they together? No? Were they _sure_ they weren’t together? Friends with benefits then, maybe?

They’d always laughed or stammered awkwardly as they brushed the questions off. They were just friends, always would be. Jemma had convinced herself that was enough. She’d had a terrible crush on him. He was the first person her age she’d met who could keep up with her intellectually, he was reasonably good-looking, and--despite his awkward and somewhat prickly exterior--he had the biggest heart of anyone she knew. But she’d been so terrified of mucking things up that she’d never said a word. If she had, and they’d gotten together and it hadn’t worked out, she wouldn’t have just lost a boyfriend--she would have lost her best friend too, the most important person in her life. She’d never been brave enough to risk it. So she’d settled for contenting herself with just being friends and lab partners. She had the rest of her life working alongside the most brilliant person she’d ever known to look forward to, and that had been enough.

Then, barely three months after graduation and their first assignment to the SciOps facility in Boston, Fitz’s mother had fallen ill. Being the only family she had, he’d requested a few weeks’ leave to go back to Scotland and help take care of her. But her condition didn’t improve and a few weeks turned into nearly two months. Eventually, Fitz was forced to hand in his resignation. They’d both been devastated.

She’d only had the chance to see him one more time after that, when he came back to their shared apartment to pack up the rest of his things. She hadn’t been able to keep herself from crying, and once she’d started, he did too. They’d ended up clinging to one another on her bed, arms and legs tangled, despair and desperation etched on their hearts. For two people who’d never been especially tactile toward one another, it had been a sign of just how much they were hurting.

 _I’ll miss you_ , she’d said through her tears. _I miss you already_.

 _I know_. He’d been carefully running his fingers through her hair. _But we’ve got email, yeah? And phones and texts. This isn’t the end_.

She’d tightened her arm around his waist. _We’ll always have each other_.

They’d fallen asleep that way. The next day, she’d gone with him to the airport and they’d waited outside security for as long as possible, unwilling to let go. When he couldn’t wait any longer without risk of missing his flight, he’d taken her hands and squeezed them, smiling. They didn’t say goodbye, both because they couldn’t and because they didn’t think they’d need to. Like he’d said, it wasn’t the end. They’d always be friends.

But life, as it often did, had other ideas.

The time difference between Boston and Glasgow had made talking on the phone difficult, so they’d stuck mostly to emails and texts. It had gone well at first and, as much as Jemma missed his physical presence beside her, their frequent emails took some of the ache away from her heart. Then, a few months after he left, he’d been hired on at Stark Industries as a part-time consultant, in a way that would earn him some much-needed money while still allowing him to stay with his mother. His busy schedule meant he couldn’t write as often, and Jemma’s own increasing workload had made it harder to respond. When she’d been transferred to the SciOps facility in New York City, it became even harder.

And so, roughly a year after Fitz left S.H.I.E.L.D., they’d quietly fallen out of touch. Jemma wasn’t sure who had stopped writing back first, but in the end it didn’t really matter. Life happened. She’d thought of him often and sometimes considered sending him a message to see how he was doing, but she could never decide on the right words, and then it became too late. At some point Fitz had changed phone numbers and switched email accounts, which left her with no way to contact him.

Eventually she’d accepted that he was gone from her life, and she’d moved on. (Later, she would realize she’d suffered a broken heart in the process, which made all the memories come back to haunt her for awhile, but she’d moved on from that too.) She poured herself into her work and got a great amount of joy from it, and she let that fulfill her instead of longing for a boy with curly hair and eyes the color of the ocean. She compartmentalized her feelings for him and tucked them safely away in a corner of her heart. She’d lost him, but she’d forever be thankful for the time he’d been in her life, and she would cherish the memories she had.

A few years later she’d met Skye, fresh from the Academy and ready to take Communications by storm, and they’d hit it off almost instantly. Finding another good friend had been a blessing, and she’d finally started to feel comfortable and happy with her life. Skye loved to play matchmaker and Jemma had dated around a bit as a result, a few of them even long-term, but nothing had ever worked out. When Skye first mentioned Trip’s engineer friend, Jemma had had the faintly shameful thought that there was really only one engineer out there for her, but he was long gone.

The irony that the engineer actually _was_ Fitz was not lost on her. The sheer happenstance that had led Fitz back to her door was incredible, and she couldn’t stop smiling. She’d missed him so much and there he was, sitting next to her on the couch, smiling and talking and laughing as if they’d last spoken yesterday, as if they hadn’t been separated for nine years. She was so happy she felt like floating.

Before she knew it, they’d been talking for hours and early evening was approaching. Fitz was in the middle of explaining his latest project at work when his stomach suddenly let out a loud growl.

Jemma laughed even as Fitz’s face flushed red again, hugging his arms over his stomach. “Well, that hasn’t changed, at least,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “You always were starving.”

“Hah,” he deadpanned, and Jemma smiled at another hint of her old Fitz shining through. “It _has_ been awhile since lunch though…” He looked at his wristwatch, then back at her. “Do you--do you want to go grab a bite to eat, maybe?”

“Of course!” Jemma was already certain she didn’t want the day to end, ever, and she’d felt a brief moment of panic at the thought that Fitz would want to leave. His offer settled her nerves considerably. “Just let me grab my purse and a jacket, and we can go.”

Fitz nodded as she stood, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll text Mack and let him know. He said they were going back to the bar tonight, and that I--I, um, should _bring my new girlfriend_ , as he put it.”

“Oh?” Jemma turned away from the hooks by the door. The suggestion made her heart flutter, despite herself. Logically she knew she didn’t need any expectations, that no matter how well they were clicking back together, she needed to be careful with her heart. Wanting too much too fast was a surefire way to end up hurt.

“Yeah.” He didn’t look up from his phone, and when it buzzed a second later he rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god’s sake, I--” He paused. “He wants proof that I’m actually here.”

“Showing up at the bar with me won’t do it?” She walked back over to the couch, coming to a stop next to him and handing him his jacket.

Fitz’s fingers were tapping out a quick response. “I’ll ask.” He put his jacket on while they waited, and when his phone buzzed again he picked it up and sighed. “No. They want evidence now. Bloody annoying and nosy, is what they are…”

“We could take a picture,” Jemma suggested, “and text it to him. Would that work?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, good idea, Jemma.” He stood and gestured for her to come closer, holding his phone out with his other hand so they could both fit in the frame. Jemma leaned in, trying not to let her senses drown in the nearness of him but still thrilling at the light touch of his hand at the small of her back. They smiled and Fitz took the picture, then stepped back to text it to Mack. “I saw a decent-looking diner down the block on my way in, is it any good?”

Jemma hummed. “It is. Skye and I go there sometimes. And,” she added teasingly, “if I ever knew you at all, then I know that you still have a soft spot for greasy cheeseburgers and chips.”

The way that Fitz beamed at her made her heart glow even warmer. “I see that hasn’t changed either,” he said, pocketing his phone. “You still know me well.”

Both of them grinning, they left her apartment and headed for the elevator. They were on the ground floor and stepping out into the cool spring air when Jemma’s phone buzzed. Taking it out, she saw it was a text from Skye, and swiped to read it. Then she laughed.

“What is it?” Fitz asked.

Jemma shook her head fondly. “It’s Skye. I’m guessing she and Trip are already with Mack. She says we’re adorable, and she’s shocked that you’re smiling.” Fitz had never much cared for having his picture taken.

“Of course I’m smiling,” he said. “Today has _not_ gone the way I thought it would, in the best way possible. It’s--I’m--” He turned to smile at her as they walked, and his joy was clear in every bit of his expression. “I think I’m still in shock, honestly. _You_ , after all these years.”

Maybe she was still in shock too. That might explain the way she felt weightless and airy, happy in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Her phone buzzed again, a few times in quick succession.

 _[Skye] OMG, is his arm around you??_  
_[Skye] Have either of you proposed yet?_  
_[Skye] I need details!!!_

Jemma smiled and slipped her phone back into her purse. “I don’t think Skye has any clue we already knew each other,” she said thoughtfully. “Looks like we’ll have a surprise of our own for them then, won’t we?”

Fitz bumped his shoulder against hers. “Definitely.”

Dinner at the diner went quickly. They both ordered a cheeseburger with fries (Fitz got a double), and split a milkshake. Jemma was amazed at the amount of food he could still pack down, even well into his twenties, and briefly considered the different types of tests she could run on him to map out his metabolism. When he finished his food he immediately started stealing her fries, gesturing with them as he talked, and she knew it wasn’t even intentional. It was something he had done all the time, before, and the fact that they were both slipping so naturally back into old habits made her heart both sing and ache.

They stood close together on the subway, shoulders and arms bumping together, and when they finally reached the bar, Fitz’s hand was at the small of her back again as they wove through the tables toward the bar itself. Jemma could see Skye sitting there with a man she vaguely recognized, and Trip was at a nearby billiards table playing pool with a giant of a man who could only be Mack. He was the first one to spot them as they approached.

“Hey! Turbo, my man, what’s up?” he said, coming around the edge of the pool table to clap a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “Still mad about the bet? Looks like it turned out pretty well for you today.” He turned to Jemma and looked pointedly at her, smiling. “You must be Jemma. I’m Mack.”

She smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you today.”

“Is that right?” Mack asked, but Fitz was looking over toward the bar, at the man who was sitting next to Skye.

“Oi! Hunter!” That was his name, Jemma remembered. “You got her name wrong. It’s Jemma, not _Gena_.”  

Hunter held up one hand in defense while he took a long sip of his pint. “Don’t blame me,” he said once he’d swallowed. “It was my shoddy mobile reception, I could barely hear Trip when he called to give me the details.”

“Speaking of _details_ ,” Skye said, crossing her legs and leaning forward on her barstool. “Spill. You two looked pretty cozy in that picture you sent Mack, and I haven’t seen Jemma smile that big since she broke up with Nick, and that was a _year_ ago--”

“Skye!” Jemma hissed.

“--and Fitz, I’m not sure I’ve ever even _seen_ you smile. So we did good, right? You two totally hit it off?”

Even though she was still embarrassed by Skye’s mention of her less-than-stellar dating life, Jemma still turned her head to look at Fitz. He was giving her what could only be described as a mischievous grin. She felt herself mirror it back.

“Actually,” Fitz said, sounding very smug, “Jemma and I already know each other.”

“Well, _knew_ each other, used to--” she corrected.

“We were at the Academy together.”

Jemma could see the cogs turning in Skye’s brain, and the exact second that she pieced it all together. “Oh my god! _Jemma!_ ” she cried, reaching out to swat at her arm. “Fitz is your best friend from the Academy? Why did you never tell me his name? Why did _I_ never tell _you_ his name? I could have set you up forever ago! Holy crap!” She laughed with disbelief. “Fitz, seriously. Jemma talks about you _all_ the time--”

“Oh Skye, I do not,” Jemma mumbled faintly, her hands going up to rest against her neck.

“No, Jemma, you really do. She has a story about you for everything, Fitz. It’s always ‘my best friend from the Academy’ this or ‘my best friend from the Academy’ that. I just can’t believe she’s never mentioned you by name.”

Meanwhile, Trip had come to stand next to Mack and was holding back a laugh. “Holy--I can’t. This is not happening right now,” he said, grinning widely.

Mack looked amused. “What?”

“Didn’t you tell me Fitz had a girl from back when he was in school that he talked about a lot? But they fell out of touch or something.”

“That’s right, he does,” Mack said, turning to Fitz with a gleam in his eye. “Talked about her enough that I’m convinced she’s why he keeps shutting down my attempts to set him up.”

“Mack,” Fitz groaned. “That’s complete rubbish. I’m perfectly capable of--”

 Skye drowned him out with her laughter, nearly doubling over at the waist. “Oh my god, we’re all idiots,” she said, wiping away a stray tear of mirth. “This is some romantic comedy-level stuff. I couldn't have written this if I'd tried. You two are meant to be.”

“Oh, I don’t--”

“Now look--”

Jemma and Fitz both shook their heads, waving away any suggestions that they were a couple, or would be, or anything even approaching _fated to be together_. “We’re just friends,” Fitz said, trying to stop Hunter’s eye-rolling and Skye’s cat-calls. Trip, noticing that the two of them were clearly embarrassed, defused the situation as quickly as possible. If there was any one good thing about Trip, it was his ability to put everyone at ease.

“Come on, Fitz,” he said, taking Mack’s pool stick and handing it to him. “I’m trashing Mack here and I need a real challenge. You up?”

It worked. Fitz took the stick and walked over to the table. “Always,” he said as he studied the positions of the balls on the table. “Are _you?_ ”

“Hey, we’re not playing for money, Turbo,” Mack laughed. “We know better than that.”

Fitz merely smirked as Trip bent over to line up a shot. “Yeah, we do,” Trip said. “If we placed bets Fitz would have us all in the poorhouse in a week.” He straightened as the cue ball rolled across the table, striking a ball and scattering several of them, but none of them sank. He frowned. “Damn.”

“It’s just physics and contact point geometry,” Fitz replied easily. He moved around to the other side of the table. “Simple, really.”

“Says the genius,” Mack said.

“Says the genius,” Fitz repeated, and pocketed two balls on his first shot. Trip just smiled and shook his head.

Jemma slid onto the empty barstool next to Skye while Mack came to lean against the side of the bar. “Fitz ran quite the hustle at the Academy,” she said, smiling at the memory. “Even though plenty of the other cadets knew the math just as well as he did, no one could beat him. He turned a tidy little profit there for awhile.”

“See?” Skye looked up at Mack. “Story for everything.”

Jemma ducked her head, but Fitz was grinning from the far side of the pool table as Trip took another shot. “Let’s not be modest, Jemma, you were a regular card shark yourself,” he teased. “Which is funny, considering you can’t lie to save your life.”

“It didn’t involve lying, just an ability to keep and hold a poker face,” she pointed out, blushing. “They’re two very different things.”

Beside her, Skye grinned as the bartender handed her another drink. “Please, no need to tell me about Jemma’s legendary lying skills,” she said. “She’s failed her field assessment three times because she can’t hack the espionage section.”

Fitz gaped at her. “You _failed_ something?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jemma sniffed. “Perhaps I’m just not cut out to be a field agent, but that’s fine. I can’t be perfect at everything. Besides, I’d have liked to see you try and do better.”

Mack laughed. “Leopold Fitz, field agent.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t see it.”

Fitz rolled his eyes before going to take another shot. Jemma watched him, warmth glowing in her chest, but after a moment or two she looked back up at Mack, and she couldn’t stop the question from tumbling out, quiet enough for just him and Skye to hear. “Does he really talk about me?”

He looked down at her and smiled before looking back at Fitz. “Sometimes,” he said. “Not much. But it's enough for me to know that you were special.” He gave her a friendly pat on the back before turning to go sit down on the other side of Hunter. Jemma considered his answer and everything it might have meant, then flagged down the bartender to order her own drink.

“You guys are totally getting married,” Skye said once she’d placed her order. Jemma sighed and gave her a quelling look. “No, really!” she insisted. “I can tell you were really into him back in school and even though you lost touch, you guys are here acting like it’s been no time at all. It really is like every stupid romantic movie ever.”

Jemma accepted her drink from the bartender and took a sip. Then she set it on the bar and stirred at it with the little straw that had come with it. “It’s...I don’t want to get my hopes up,” she finally said. “It’s been nine years. That’s a lot of time, and I really can’t expect everything to immediately be like it was before. We were just kids then, really. We’ve both grown up. What if we’ve changed? What if...what made us such good friends before is gone?”

Skye pursed her lips. “I don’t think it is,” she said. “I mean--I don’t know Fitz very well, not enough to say, but I _do_ know you. I’ve known you, what, five years now? You’re still the same brilliant, caring, adorably awkward Jemma I first met. I’m willing to bet Fitz is still the same Fitz you knew, in all the ways that matter at least.” She paused. “Let me ask you this, then: are you happy it was him today?”

Jemma smiled faintly, still stirring her drink. “I’m so happy I can barely breathe.”

Skye made a small _aww_ noise before she reached over to squeeze her hand. “Then go for it. I’m not saying it has to be tonight, or tomorrow or even next week. Just--whenever you’re ready. If he’s really as wonderful and fantastic as you’ve made him out to be all these years, don’t let him get away again.”

After a moment, Jemma nodded, giving Skye another small smile before turning on her stool to watch Fitz and Trip play pool. It was nice, she thought, to see Fitz look so relaxed and comfortable around other people in a way that he’d never quite achieved at the Academy. Maybe time and age had softened his prickliness; maybe he found it easier to get along with people now. She knew the same was true for her. She hadn’t been as socially awkward as he had been, but she’d still found it difficult to meet new people and truly settle in during her first couple of years with SciOps. Befriending Skye had helped a lot.

She also knew she was staring, but she couldn’t look away. There was still a part of her convinced that it was all a dream, that she was going to wake up to find Fitz really hadn’t walked back into her life, and she wanted to soak up as much of him as possible while she could. And that meant staring. Watching as he bent and twisted to line up shot after shot, as he reached up to brush his hair off his forehead, as he eventually shed his jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his jumper, then rolled up the cuffs of his shirt after loosening his tie. It was a nice view, she had to admit. Fitz would never be bulky, but she could tell he’d filled out a little around his shoulders, and the better fit of his clothes accentuated every long, lean line he had. The thought crossed her mind that it was impossible for him not to have a girlfriend, not with his brilliance and humor and boyish good looks--but, she thought, reflecting on what Mack had said about Fitz turning down dates, maybe there was a reason why he was single.

Maybe it was the same reason she herself always ended up single, time and again.

But that was a silly thought. She shook her head and took a long sip of her drinking, feeling the alcohol burn on the way down. She wasn’t sure she really believed in fate, anyway.

It didn’t take Fitz long to beat Trip at pool, and then they were coaxing Skye into a game. When she relented, Fitz took her spot next to Jemma at the bar and ordered a drink of his own. They talked as he drank it, both to themselves and with Hunter and Mack, but when he finished it, he set the glass down and gave Jemma a considering look. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Me?” Jemma replied, surprised. “I’m fine. Why?”

Fitz shrugged. “You just look a little...I don’t know. Unsure?”

Jemma smiled. “Oh, it’s just been awhile since I’ve been out to a bar, despite Skye’s best efforts.” She drained the last of her drink. “I might need time to get back into the swing of it, I suppose.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Fitz asked, and checked his watch. “It’s still early, we could go back to your apartment and catch up some more. That is, if--if you want to.”

Another rush of warmth went through her--just one of the probably hundreds ever since she’d opened her door to him. “I’d like that,” she said, and she meant it. Grinning, Fitz nodded and stood to go settle their tab with the bartender, putting on his jacket as he went. Jemma shouldered her purse and stood as well. “I think we’re leaving,” she said, at Mack and Hunter’s questioning looks.

“Yeah,” Fitz affirmed, coming back to join her. “Really just stopped by to prove I held up my end of the bet.” He glanced over toward the pool table. “And destroy Trip at pool.”

“Hey, I heard that,” Trip called out, grinning as Skye sank a shot.

“That brings up a question,” Hunter said, holding up a finger. “You had to deliver a _kissogram_ , if I’m not mistaken, but I haven’t heard anyone mention any kissing yet.” He leveled his gaze on Jemma. “So did old Fitzy lay one on you, or could he not man up?”

Mack burst out laughing as Jemma sputtered and Fitz scowled. “No--no, he didn’t kiss me,” Jemma managed, even as Fitz crossed his arms and said, “I’ll have you know, Hunter, that I--”

“I told him he didn’t have to.” Jemma laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.”

Mack was still laughing. “You know, I should really call you out on that,” he said, “and say you didn’t meet all the terms of the bet. But I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Thank you,” Fitz said, with as much dignity as he could muster.

“You two have a good evening.” Mack shooed them toward the door, and Hunter saluted them with his pint. Trip waved from the pool table, and Skye called out, “Don’t forget to put a sock on the door!”

“ _Skye!_ ” Jemma wailed, but she just smiled cheerily and waved them off.

“Hunter talks a load of bollocks,” Fitz said as soon as they were outside and walking down the sidewalk. “I’m perfectly capable of manning up and kissing someone.”

“Hush, Fitz,” Jemma soothed. “I know you are.” Apparently his ire at being thought incompetent hadn’t changed either.

Fitz didn’t say anything after that, so after a moment Jemma tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, pulling him close enough that their shoulders bumped as they walked. Fitz didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he even leaned slightly into her. Occasionally he would glance at her, as if to make sure that she was really there, and smile. For all that Skye said she had never seen him smile before, Jemma didn’t think Fitz had _stopped_ smiling all day, not really, not even during his brief flashes of irritation.

They stayed just as close on the subway, Jemma holding onto his arm with both of her hands. At one point, Fitz turned his head slightly to put his mouth close to her ear. “I’m really glad today happened,” he murmured, voice low. Jemma felt a little thrill wash through her, and she squeezed his arm.

“Me too,” she said quietly back.

“And--maybe I’m feeling a wee bit possessive,” he continued after a pause. “Leaving the bar, wanting you all to myself. Nine years is a lot of time to make up for.”

Another, stronger thrill ran through her, the thought of _Fitz_ and _possessive_ and _all to myself_ circling like a tornado in her mind, mixing in with all the feelings and emotions that had come surging back with him. But she couldn’t think of anything to say in return, so she dared to lean her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of soap and solder and aftershave--god, he even still smelled the same.

By the time they made it back to her apartment, she was half in love with him again.

She got the door shut and locked as quickly as she could, then hung up her purse and jacket on their hooks and turned back to Fitz on unsteady feet. He smiled at her as he handed her his jacket, and she tried to keep her own smile from going overboard as she went to hang it up too. She wasn’t tipsy, but she was definitely nervous. Maybe it was the faintest of buzzes she had going from her one drink, or maybe it was a culmination of all the emotions she’d been bombarded with all day, or maybe it was just the thrill of seeing Fitz again after so many years--but she was feeling bold. Skye’s words at the bar echoing in her mind, she bit her lip. “I have a question for you,” she said, turning to face him again.

“Yeah, sure,” Fitz replied. “Anything.”

Jemma took another step toward him. “I was wondering if--if maybe...I could still collect on that kiss.”

Fitz’s eyes went wide as two spots of color appeared high on his cheeks. He swallowed thickly. “Um--”

Doubt crashed into her like a freight train. “Nevermind, forget I asked,” she blurted, blushing scarlet to the roots of her hair. “I shouldn’t have, that was--”

“No, Jemma, it’s not--” He stepped forward just as she stepped back, and reached out to catch her by her upper arms. “I just--”

They both fell silent, staring at each other. Jemma felt incredibly stupid; asking for that kiss had nearly been a spur of the moment thing, and now she was sure she had ruined any chance of having a normal friendship with him again. But then, Fitz’s eyes flicked down to her mouth, and she felt her breath stall in her throat.

“It’s fine, Jemma,” he said, quieter, and swallowed again. “It’s fine.” Then he nodded, and gently pulled her forward before leaning down to press his lips against hers.

It wasn’t the most searing kiss she’d ever experienced, but it still managed to be perfect. His lips were warm and soft and careful, and his hands on her arms so light, and it was everything she’d hoped for and so, so _wanted_ that she felt herself go a little weak in the knees. He ghosted his lips over hers once, twice more before pulling back, and when Jemma opened her eyes he was smiling weakly at her. It almost looked like an apology.

“You know I was in love with you at the Academy, right?” he asked.

It felt like a punch to the gut, and suddenly Jemma was dizzy for an entirely different reason. “What?”

Fitz winced, his hands falling away from her. “ _Seriously?_ Jemma...I was so bloody obvious. Everyone knew, and I--I thought you never said anything because--because you just wanted to be friends, and you didn’t want things to be awkward--”

He stopped when she buried her face in her hands with a cry. “Oh god,” she groaned. “Fitz. We _are_ idiots. We could have had _years_.”

It was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” she said, looking back up at him, “that I had the biggest crush on you.” At his look of surprise, she hastened to add, “But I’m not surprised you didn’t know, because I tried very hard to hide it. You were right, I _didn’t_ want to muck things up, because I needed you as a friend more than I could risk losing you completely if we didn’t work out. I was--too scared. And it was only when we lost touch that I realized just how much you really meant to me, and I thought...I must have loved you too.” She paused as the full magnitude of the _what-if_ hit her. “Fitz... _years_.”

The look of anguish on his face as it hit him as well was too much for her to bear. Jemma stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, turning her face into his neck and burying it there. His arms immediately went around her in turn, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as he rested his cheek on her hair. They stayed that way in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, caught up in what could have been.

“My mum still would have gotten sick,” Fitz mumbled eventually. “I still would have left.”

“I know,” Jemma said. “But maybe we could have...maybe we would have tried harder.”

It was a lie, she knew that. She’d tried as hard as she could for as long as she could, even without knowing he’d loved her, and she knew he had done the same. They’d still drifted apart.

Fitz’s fingers flexed against her as he shifted slightly, readjusting his hold on her. “It’s hard to say. I’ve heard long-distance relationships can be really difficult.”

She fell silent again, trying to quiet the storm in her heart. “You’re right,” she said after a moment. “It’s no use thinking about the what-ifs, because what’s done is done, and we can’t change that.” She pulled away, just enough to look up at him, and brought her hands around and up to rest on his chest. “But we’re here, now. Right? That’s something.”

“Yeah,” Fitz whispered, nodding. “It is.”

Jemma wasn’t sure who moved first, or if they’d both leaned in together. All she knew was that his mouth was on hers again, and what had started off as another soft kiss was quickly becoming something else entirely. Her arms went around his neck as his wrapped around her back, pulling her flush against him, and his lips moved hungrily over hers, going from seeking and questioning to hard and passionate in the space of seconds. It was all Jemma could do to hold on and match him in pressure and intensity as they both poured all the feelings they’d ever felt for each other into one incredible, heart-stopping kiss.

She made a noise in the back of her throat when Fitz traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, coaxing them open; then they both moaned as he slid his tongue in against hers. Kissing someone had never felt so natural and right and perfect, and as she slid a hand up to tangle in his hair, Jemma felt another wave of sadness threaten to hit her as she thought that this could have been them years ago, but she stubbornly pushed it away. She had to stay focused on the present, on Fitz and the way he was mapping out the inside of her mouth with his tongue, on how she’d gone up on her toes and arched her back in an effort to pull him even closer against her.

She lost track of how long they stood there, lost in each other. Sometimes their kisses slowed to the point where they were simply holding each other, foreheads pressed together and lips barely brushing, drunk off the sensations of being together again, close in ways they’d only ever let themselves imagine. Then one of them would move--a deliberate brush of tongues, or an almost playful nip of teeth--and they’d fall back into heated kisses, until Jemma felt like every nerve ending in her body was on fire. When Fitz’s hand, the one not threaded through her hair, swept down her back and even lower to splay over the curve of her arse, she gasped as a hot shock of lust hit her low in the gut.

Fitz immediately pulled his hand away, wincing as he looked up from where he’d been laying a line of kisses down the side of her neck. “Too much?”

Jemma shook her head, already pulling him back to her. “Not enough,” she breathed, and crushed her mouth to his.

He made a surprised noise but still kissed her back, before turning them and walking backward, angling for the couch. When the backs of his legs hit it, he let himself fall into a sit, pulling her down after him. She ended up in his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands went to her hips to steady her, and she cupped his jaw, tilting his face up into another kiss.

For a moment it was nothing but lips and tongues and soft presses of teeth, feeling herself drown in the heat of him, until she felt his hands slip beneath her shirt, his warm palms sliding over the skin of her back. She couldn’t help the sigh of pleasure that escaped her then; everything that was happening was a dream come true, and as hypersensitive as she was at the moment, his hands on her bare skin felt positively delicious. She _really_ wanted to return the favor, both for his pleasure and for her own curiosity.

With that in mind, Jemma reached down to fumble for the hem of his jumper, tugging it up once she got ahold of it. She only broke their kiss when necessity forced them apart, but then the sleeves snagged on the cuffs of his shirt and Fitz was stuck with the jumper half over his head.

“Stupid--ruddy--jumper,” Fitz complained, his face hidden by the soft material. Jemma laughed, feeling her heart swell with with love and affection, and reached to pull his jumper up and over his head from the back. It took another minute of pulling and twisting and muttered curses, but finally he was free of it. He crumpled it in his fist and tossed it, not caring where it landed, and smiled up at her. His hair was a mess and his eyes were bright and alive with desire and more than a little reverence. Jemma fell in love with him all over again.

“Well,” she murmured, “now that that’s sorted,” and leaned down to kiss him again, long and slow and deep, until he sighed against her mouth. Then she moved her hands to start working on his tie. Fitz kept his own hands at her waist, moving beneath her shirt again to draw tiny patterns against her skin, as his tie followed his jumper to the floor and her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. Once she got it open, she pressed her hands flat against his stomach before running them up over his chest and across his shoulders, shivering slightly. His skin felt just as nice as she’d hoped, and suddenly she wanted more. She wanted to make a map of his body, learn all the dips and rises and hollow and name them, discover what made him sigh, what made him moan, what made him beg for more. She just didn’t know how to go about asking, even _if_ she was straddling him and already had half his clothes off.

Luckily, Fitz did the asking for her. Stretching up to nip at her bottom lip, his hands slid down to her hips and pulled her more firmly against him, letting her feel just how hard he’d gone. Jemma gasped as another rush of desire hit her and without thinking, she rolled her hips down into his. Fitz tensed up as a shudder ran through him, his fingers digging into her skin, and he choked on a moan as his head fell back against the couch cushions.

Breathless, Jemma leaned into him, bracing her arms on the back of the couch and dipping her head to run her tongue up the slope of his neck. When she felt Fitz’s breath hitch, she ground her hips into his again and was rewarded with another full-body shudder. His hands were roaming restlessly over her back, and every time she rolled her hips or sucked on the skin of his neck, they would freeze and clench tightly. It only ramped up her desire.

“God, Jemma,” he whispered, and she lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were parted, his breathing gone shallow. When he finally blinked his eyes open to look back at her, his pupils were blown wide, the blue of his irises darker than she could remember ever seeing them. The movement of her hips was a constant thing now, and he’d started responding in kind; staring into his eyes, seeing the effect she had on him while they moved together, pleasure radiating in little sparks and tremors out from her center, was easily the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.

She sucked in a breath. “Do you have a--?”

“Yeah.” Fitz’s voice was strained. “Bed?”

Jemma nodded before she could even get the words out. “Yes-- _yes_.” Her head was swimming with desire and anticipation, and it was another minute before she could force herself out of his lap. When she stood, her legs felt shaky, but she still held out both of her hands to help haul Fitz to his feet. His eyes on her were intense as he swept her into a brief, passionate kiss before he nudged her in the direction of the hall. She lead the way, walking backwards and giving him the best smirk she could manage as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He pulled it the rest of the way off and let it drop to the floor before following Jemma into her bedroom.

She shut the door behind them and moved quickly through the sudden darkness to turn on her lamp. When she turned back to face him, Fitz was pulling his shoes and socks off, his expression managing to be equal parts shy, hungry, and adorably eager. She couldn’t help but smile at him as she kicked off her own shoes and socks. When his own smile widened at the sight of hers--he just looked so _happy_ \--she felt another surge of love in her heart. She beckoned him forward before starting to unbutton her shirt.

“Yes, good, that’s good,” he said, nodding at her shirt as he came to stand just in front of her. “Because you’ve nearly got me stripped and you’re still in all your clothes.”

Jemma tilted her head at him. “Oh, _you’re_ impatient,” she teased, and made the split-second decision to make taking off her shirt a bit of a show. She stretched as she shrugged it off, pushing her chest out, and felt gratified when Fitz couldn’t keep himself from openly staring.

“I’m really not,” he said, licking his lips. “If you think about it, I’ve been waiting for ten years.”

Despite the display she'd just made, she couldn’t help the faint blush that bloomed in her cheeks. “Well, if you put it that way, it’s only fair to say I’ve done the same.” She reached out to pull him closer by his belt loops. “So why wait now?”

“Hah,” Fitz snarked, but she pulled him into another kiss before he could say anything else. Then they were both opening the buttons and zippers of their jeans, and Fitz reached around her to toss his wallet onto her nightstand without pulling his mouth away from hers. Next, his hands were going around her back to undo the clasp on her bra.

The second he’d pulled it off and tossed it to the side, Jemma stretched up to wrap her arms around his neck, slanting her lips against his to immediately deepen their kiss. Fitz pulled her flush to him, and the feeling of his bare chest against hers made her moan into mouth. It was every bit as good as she’d imagined.

She stepped back toward the bed then, and Fitz let go long enough for her to lie back on it before he climbed on after her, balancing himself on hands and knees. When his face was level with hers, his eyes turned soft as they took her in, lying below him completely naked save for her knickers.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and her stomach swooped. “I mean--I always thought you were beautiful, before, but now you’re just…” He shook his head and smiled. “You’re twice as beautiful. More than that, even.”

Jemma blushed again. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she quipped, trying not to get too sentimental (because then she might cry). She looked him over, from his shoulders to his chest and down to the not-insignificant bulge in his boxer briefs, before fighting down her blush and smiling up at him.

He huffed a small laugh and looked away. “You don’t have to say that just to be nice, Jemma,” he said. “I’m know I’m not--”

She reached up to catch his face between her hands and gently pull him down until he was close enough to bat her nose against his. “You _are_ , Fitz,” she whispered. “To me. You always were before, and you are now. I…” She swallowed as a wave of the dreaded sentimentality hit her, and she lifted her head to briefly brush her lips against his. “Please believe me.”

He’d always been a little testy about his physical appearance, keenly aware of his shorter-than-average height and his lack of muscle, but it had never been an issue for Jemma. She’d liked him just the way he was. She still did.

Fitz looked down at her for a moment, eyes searching hers, before he smiled a little and nodded. Then he leaned down to kiss her with an intensity that surprised her, even given everything that had already passed between them. She whimpered and shifted, trying to pull him down against her, but he only moved to lean his weight on one elbow, one knee pressed between hers. His free hand trailed down her side, then up and back down a few times, before sliding up to cup her breast. She gasped at his touch, then outright moaned and arched up into him when he stroked his thumb across the peak, teasing her nipple. She felt him smile against her lips before he pulled away to press a line of kisses across her cheek and jaw, then down her neck to her collarbone.

Jemma sighed out his name, sliding her eyes shut and giving herself over to sensation. His lips and tongue blazed a warm, wet path across her shoulders and the hollow of her throat as his hand continued to stroke, tug, and tease at her breast, and the pleasure she was getting from it all was starting to make her tremble. When he shifted down the bed and his mouth closed over her other breast, she moaned so loudly she was sure it echoed. It only served to spur Fitz on. He laved at her nipple with the flat of his tongue before sucking hard enough to leave a mark, making Jemma go cross-eyed as she squeezed her thighs together to stave off the rapidly-mounting arousal she felt.

It didn’t really work. She’d already knotted her fingers in his hair to hold him in place against her breast, and Fitz didn’t seem like he was going to lose interest any time soon. Before long, her breathing had gone short and shallow, the hand not tugging at his hair was fisted into the sheets, and she couldn’t stop her hips from instinctively lifting, seeking out friction that wasn’t there. Fitz hummed as he swirled his tongue around her nipple, and Jemma bit back another moan. His free hand smoothed down her side again, curving over her hip, then traced the waistband of her knickers. She sighed again, shifting beneath him, silently begging for more with her movements. A second later, his hand moved down until it brushed against the seat of knickers.

“ _Oh!_ ” Jemma cried, tensing as heat flared low in her belly. “Fitz--”

He worked his hand beneath the thin fabric, and she keened sharply as she felt his fingertips slide up over her center. He groaned, pulling his face away from her breast to drop his forehead down on her stomach. “ _Fuck_ , Jem,” he panted hoarsely, his warm breath fanning across her stomach. “You’re--” He stroked his fingers over her again. “You’re so wet.”

Hearing Fitz use his old nickname for her, his voice low and rough with desire, turned her bones to jelly. “Fitz, please,” she breathed, trying not to move her hips in counterpoint to the motion of his hand on her. “Condom. _Now_.”

He let out a harsh breath before reluctantly pulling his hand away from her and pressing a kiss to her stomach. Then he sat up to pull her knickers down and off her legs, kissing each of her thighs as he went, and stood to pull off his boxer briefs. Jemma tried not to stare as he walked to her nightstand and for his wallet, but she wanted to admire the view (and oh, was it a nice view). He turned and caught her looking after he finished rolling the condom on, and his cheeks briefly flared pink, but before she could say anything he was crawling back over her on the bed.

“Hi,” he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle and kiss at her neck as he nudged her knees apart with his own.

“Hello,” she whispered back, drawing her knees up as she ran both of her hands into his hair, holding him close. He sighed quietly before settling down against her, then shifted so he could slant her mouth open below his, kissing her deeply. Jemma let herself fall into it, relishing the feel of his tongue sliding over hers and the weight of his body, until she felt him, hard and hot against her thigh. She arched up into him, reaching down to grab his hips.

Fitz got the message. He braced his weight on one elbow again and kissed her cheeks, brushing her hair back from her face as she angled her hips up into him. It took a few tries before they clicked, but when they did, Jemma moaned as he pushed into her, clutching at his hips until he was fully inside her. Then she was blinking open wide eyes at the ceiling above them, her entire body trembling at just how good he felt, how perfectly he filled her.

He’d lowered his head, his forehead bumping against her collarbone. “Christ, you feel amazing,” he said breathlessly, and pressed even harder against her, trying to go as deep as he could. Jemma shuddered with pleasure, lifting her hands to card her fingers through his hair, then raised her knees up until she could rest her feet flat on the mattress.

“Please,” she whispered, and Fitz nodded, swallowing, before looking up to kiss her briefly. Then he started to rock against her, slowly at first, but with more speed and confidence as he settled into a rhythm. Jemma matched his pace, rolling her hips up to meet his every thrust, and soon she was gasping for air, drawing her knees up even higher to change the angle just so, and when Fitz hit a spot inside of her that had her crying his name out loud, he gave up all pretense of trying to kiss her and just _moved_.

The entire time, he was breathing a litany of praises against her skin, words like _beautiful_ and _amazing_ and _perfect_ , and the beauty of it, knowing that it was _Fitz_ she was with, the best friend she’d ever had, Fitz who had loved her and lost her and possibly even _still_ loved her, meshed with all the memories and the kisses and the pleasure to create a perfect storm of ecstasy within her. When he grabbed her hand and pressed it into the mattress, palm up so he could link his fingers with hers even as he thrust into her, she knew she was done for.

“Fitz,” she gasped, dizzy with lust and the orgasm she felt herself teetering on the brink of. “I--oh _god_ \--”

“Come on, baby girl,” he said, his voice gone ragged. He was holding himself back for her, she could tell. “Come on. I’ve got you.”

She could feel her muscles start to flutter and chased the sensation with everything she had. “ _Harder_ \--”

Fitz made a noise that almost sounded like a gasping sob, but he squeezed her hand tightly and thrust even harder into her. Almost immediately, stars exploded behind her eyelids as her orgasm crested and then broke, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her. After a few more thrusts, she felt Fitz tense and shudder, groaning through his own release.

When she came back to her senses, he was hovering over her, resting on his elbows and looking exhausted and sweaty. When he saw her open her eyes, he smiled and leaned down to give her a tender, heartfelt kiss. “Here,” he said, and shifted to pull away from her. “I’ll be right back.”

He left to go to the bathroom and dispose of the condom, and Jemma laughed quietly to herself when he paused in the doorway and looked both ways down the hall before going out, even though they were the only ones there. She shivered--either an aftershock or the cool air of the room on her damp skin, or both--and moved to pull back the blankets on her bed before sliding beneath them. When Fitz returned, she’d left the corner of the blanket turned down in an invitation for him to join her.

He crawled into bed next to her without comment, and she immediately moved to curl up against his side, pillowing her head on his shoulder and resting her hand on his chest. He worked his arm beneath her so he could wrap it around her shoulders and pull her even closer, then pressed a kiss to her forehead before relaxing with a sigh.

“Stay?” Jemma asked, although she already knew the answer.

She was right. “Yeah,” Fitz murmured, “of course. For as long as you’ll let me.”

Jemma smiled and turned her face to kiss the closest patch of skin available, just below his collarbone. “Be careful,” she teased quietly. “I might end up deciding I’d like for it to be forever.”

She felt his chest rumble with a soft laugh. “I think I might be okay with that.”

Of course he’d be. Jemma had known the instant she saw him that it would be hard to let him go again, so it had been reasonable to assume that he’d felt the same.

“And...in case I haven’t mentioned it yet..." he added, "I’m really glad today happened.”

Jemma smiled again, splaying her fingers out in the center of his chest and enjoying the warmth that radiated from his skin. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Good.” Fitz fell silent for a moment, his thumb sweeping back and forth over her shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She snuggled closer to him, sliding a foot in between his. “So much. I thought about you all the time, you know...not obsessively, but just--I’d see things that reminded me of you, or I’d get stuck on a project at work and think, ‘Fitz would know just what to do’...little things here and there.” She laughed quietly, glad he couldn’t see her face. “I know how silly I must sound, because it’s been _years_ and you’d think I would have moved on by now. But...you were the best friend I’d ever had, and the--the first person I’d ever really had feelings for, that way.” She frowned. “I think you’re the only one, still.”

Fitz turned his face toward her to kiss her forehead again, then stayed that way, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. “No, I get it,” he said. “I was the same way, I guess. I still have a picture of us at my workstation in the lab, for god’s sake.”

Jemma shifted to tilt her head back so she could look up at him. “Really?” she asked, smiling. “Which one?”

“It’s from graduation,” he said, looking down at her. “The one where I’ve got my arm around your shoulders and we’re both grinning like lunatics.”

“I remember that one.” She still had a copy of it herself, tucked away in a photo album in her closet. “That was a good day.”

Fitz hummed in agreement and reached up to curl his fingers around the hand she’d laid on his chest. “I guess the question now is...where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged lightly. “What...what are we, now? What’s _this?_ ” He nodded at the two of them.

“I don’t know, either.” Jemma couldn’t stop a note of fear and doubt from creeping into her voice. What if what they’d just done really had been too much, too fast? “‘Best friend’ doesn’t sound like enough, and ‘boyfriend’ sounds too...trite. And _this_...well--I’d very much like for it to be a thing that we can continue. If you want to.”

Fitz picked up on her uncertainty, and he shifted so he could better see her face. “Hey,” he said, sliding a palm against her cheek. “Do you--are you having regrets?”

“No!” Jemma rushed to reassure him, reaching up to cover his hand with her own. “Fitz, I just said I want to have sex with you on a regular basis. Are...are _you_ having regrets?”

“ _No_.” His face had flushed at her words, but his eyes remained steady. “It’s just--I don’t care so much about labels, Jemma, not with you, but you _know_ Skye and Trip and Mack and everyone will be asking. I just wanted to know the right thing to call you, so we don’t have any embarrassing mixups.”

“Oh.” That was actually rather sweet of him, Jemma thought. Very considerate. “In that case...I suppose it should be ‘girlfriend’, for you. ‘Boyfriend’, for me.”

Fitz grinned and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Girlfriend,” he said slowly, trying the word out. “Jemma Simmons is my _girlfriend_. That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, sinking back against the pillows. “I’ll have to adjust too. But we have tomorrow and the next day, and all the days after that, to do it. Right now, I’m just happy to have you here.” She yawned. “And I’m tired.”

“Right. And I’m happy, too.” Fitz leaned down to kiss her, slow and lazy like he had all the time in the world to do so, and knew it. When he pulled back, Jemma smiled sleepily up at him, ghosting her fingers over his cheek. He stole one last, brief kiss before he settled back down next to her, readjusting his arms around her so she was curled comfortably against his side again. “Good night, Jemma.”

“Night, Fitz.” She closed her eyes and relaxed, smiling, thinking she was the luckiest woman in the world.

She had almost drifted completely off when she felt Fitz start to shake. “Hmm?” she mumbled, shifting against him. “Fitz?”

The shaking subsided somewhat, but she could tell that he was trying his hardest not to laugh, lest he disturb her. “Shh, Jemma. It’s nothing, don’t wake up. I just thought of something, that’s all.”

“Oh?”

His shoulders shook again. “It’s just...sorry. Hunter was right about one thing.”

“Was he?” Fitz’s skin felt wonderful pressed against hers, and she was so very warm and content. It made it hard to focus.

“Yeah. He said...once you found out how large my brain was, you’d be tearing my clothes off.”

Jemma snorted softly, not even bothering to open her eyes. “Well, he wasn’t wrong.”

“No, he wasn’t.” His shoulders shook again. “Sorry. I’ll go to sleep now.”

“Mmm.”

-:-

When Skye came back late the next morning, Jemma was wearing her robe, in the kitchen cleaning up the remains of breakfast, while Fitz sat on the couch in just his jeans and button-down, looking through one of Jemma’s science periodicals.

“Well, look who’s gone and made himself right at home!” Skye chirped as she hung up her bag and jacket. “Did you two have fun last night?”

Fitz made a face at her, but Jemma smiled as she finished rinsing the dishes. “We did,” she said primly. “I’m assuming you did too, seeing as you never came home?”

Skye rolled her eyes. “Please, I did you a favor. I stayed with Trip so you could have the apartment to yourselves. But hey.” She pointed an accusing finger at Jemma. “ _You_ didn’t put a sock on the door like I asked. I could have walked into anything just now, who _knows_ what I would have seen--”

“There was no need, Skye,” Jemma cut in. “Fitz and I got that all out of the way last night.”

Fitz broke into a sudden coughing fit, wheezing as he put his magazine down and pounded at his chest with his fist. Skye burst out laughing, but when Jemma caught her eye and smirked, she winked back.

“Okay, wow, I don’t need any details,” Skye said, crossing her arms. “But I _am_ going to say I told you so.”

“Skye,” Fitz groaned, still coughing, “ _no_. You do not get to tell us that. We already knew each other, so it doesn’t count.”

She looked between the two of them, grinning. “Maybe. But I _was_ involved in reuniting you two nerds after years apart, so I call it a success. Feel free to name one of your kids after me.”

“ _Skye_.” Jemma rolled her eyes. “We’re not having children. We’re not even married.”

“Yet,” Skye grinned, and ran for her room before either Fitz or Jemma could get in another word.

Sighing, Fitz stood and stretched before walking over to meet Jemma as she came around the edge of the kitchen counter. “I should probably be going,” he said, reluctance clear in every bit of him. “I never told Mack where I was, so he’s probably wondering where I am--”

“He’s not!” Skye yelled from her room. “I told him you were definitely coming here to spend the night!”

“Okay, yes, fine, thank you Skye,” Fitz yelled back, then lowered his voice again. “Anyway, I had some other errands and things I need to do, and…” He shrugged. “I do have to leave at some point.”

Jemma nodded her understanding, resting her hands on his shoulders and going up on the balls of her feet to give him a soft, quick kiss. “I know. And I also know it doesn’t make sense for me to worry, but--”

“You’re afraid you’ll wake up and find it’s all been a dream. Yeah, I know too, I feel the same.” He ducked his head a bit bashfully. “I’ve been pinching my arm ever since I woke up.”

He was right, she thought as she went to her room to collect his shoes, socks, and wallet. She’d woken up alone a few hours earlier, and a jolt of fear had hit her heart, making her sit straight up in bed. It was only then that she’d realized she wasn’t actually alone, that Fitz was still there--he’d just rolled away from her some time in the night, and was still peacefully asleep, one arm dangling over the side of the bed. The overwhelming relief that had crashed into her had made her dizzy enough to fall back against the pillows.

They’d had a good morning after that. Jemma had woken him up with kisses planted across his chest, which had turned into wandering hands and sighs, and ended with Fitz pulling her on top of him for the best morning-after sex she’d ever had. She’d committed to memory the sight of him gazing up at her with sleepy, adoring eyes, smiling in the sunlight peeking through her curtains as his hands slid over her thighs. She knew it was too soon to be entertaining thoughts of saying _I love you_ , but she couldn't lie to herself: her heart was already singing it.

But they had all the days stretched out in front of them now to work their way up to it, together.

Fitz had pulled his jumper on when Jemma came back into the living room, pausing for a moment before stuffing his tie in his jacket pocket. He took his shoes and socks from her with a murmured _thank you_ , then put his wallet in his pocket too. She wandered back to the kitchen as he pulled his shoes and socks on, trying desperately not to appear clingy and needy.

Then he was standing, set to leave, and he wrapped her up in a tight hug when she came back to meet him at the door.

“It’ll be fine,” he said quietly against her hair. “I’ve got your number now, and your email, _and_ I know where you live. We’ll get it right this time, Jemma. I promise.”

“I know,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by his neck. “I trust you.” She allowed herself another moment to bask in the warmth of his arms before she pulled back. “Go on, then. I’ll see you again soon.”

Fitz smiled. “Yeah.” Then he leaned down to kiss her, one, two, three times with the faintest brush of his tongue against hers, before turning and undoing all the locks on the door. “I’ll let you know when I get back in later tonight. And after that, tomorrow? We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Right.” Jemma gave him a small, playful shove out into the hall. “Together.”

Fitz gave her another smile before darting in for one last kiss. Then he stepped back, made a show of blowing out a breath, and raised his eyebrows. “Goodbye, Jemma.”

“Bye, Fitz.”

She forced herself to close the door, then took a minute to collect herself once she’d redone all the locks. Once she felt recentered, she grabbed her phone from her purse and went back to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and flopping back onto her bed. The pillow smelled like Fitz. She wanted to roll over and bury her face into it for at least an hour, telling herself repeatedly that the last day really had happened, that Fitz was back in her life and it was absolutely incredible, and that maybe--just maybe--miracles really did exist.

Her phone buzzed. She reached out to pluck it off her nightstand, and smiled when saw the message.

_[Fitz] I miss you already_

She thought back to the conversation they’d had years ago, at their apartment in Boston the night before he’d left for good, and how she had said those very same words to him. It made her answer easy.

_[Jemma] I know. But this isn’t the end_

He was quick to respond, and his reply made her heart swell with hope, even as it twinged with a bit of bittersweetness for the past.

_[Fitz] We’ll always have each other, yeah?_

He _did_ remember, just like she did, even though that night was a decade in the past.

_[Jemma] Of course. xx_

And the best part, she thought, was knowing that this time, they would make it happen. They’d been given a second chance and they didn’t intend to waste it. She had a whole lifetime of tomorrows with Fitz to look forward to now, and she couldn’t wait to get started.


End file.
